


I Could Be The One

by GryfoTheGreat



Category: Kaichou wa Maid-sama!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - College/University, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-13
Updated: 2013-08-13
Packaged: 2017-12-23 10:14:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/925162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GryfoTheGreat/pseuds/GryfoTheGreat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Games are funner when both are equally skilled. Misaki has a year of university in England, and Usui has some spare time and a very convenient place for her to crash...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. it used to be so easy, can't you see?

**Author's Note:**

> Explanation: Usui and Misaki are somewhat together, but Usui is in England to study. Misaki is in Japan, but not for long...
> 
> One of the things I find interesting about this show is how Misaki and Usui fall in love.  
> He subjects her to what could be called psychological torture to get her to like him, and what I wanted to do was write a story in which Misaki is able to do the same to Usui, but still keep them in-character.

It’s been a while since he’s seen her. Too long, really.

Usui is sprawled on his couch-well, not quite. One arm is hooked around the back of it, socked foot pressing against the armrest. His glasses are askew, head almost touching the floor, and he looks like a complete idiot. He doesn’t really care. It’s impossible to get comfortable nowadays.

Right now, he’s in his London apartment. He’d decided not to go for a penthouse, but had still managed to get a highly comfortable place. He doesn’t spend much time here-his family is up in Cumbria amid lakes and Wordsworthian cottages , and he himself is studying economics and management in Oxford.

Right now, the lecturers are mired in placements and revision, but Usui has managed to get an exemption, based on his stellar grades and the amount of time he has spent working in international conglomerates with his family. He has spent the past week in London, knowing that the house in Oxford will be wrecked when he comes back-he had left it in the care of a friend who seemed to be planning house parties before he even left.

He hasn’t been doing much, in all honesty, apart from people-watching in Hyde Park and spending too much time alone in museums...but the email he had received promised to change all that.

_Superhuman Tag Team Member 2,_

_Usui! You finally have a reason to stop complaining and Skyping me when I’m asleep!_

_You know that Tokyo U has an Erasmus programme. I didn’t know if I’d get into it or anything-but Professor Kawae made a case with the board! I couldn’t get Oxford, but I got King’s College instead! I know that their biomedical department is world-class, and Kawae says that I could learn far more, especially with my level of English, for which I blame you, alien._

_Thing is, I’ve heard lots of horror stories about student housing over there... I know Usui will help me, even if he is a pervert, so do you mind if I crash at yours for a while? Just until I can get reliable accommodation, and I hope you’ll help me with that too. My English is good, but you know I have trouble with the accents._

_Please?_

_See you soon (hopefully!)_

_Misaki_

Usui slides fully from the couch and grins dopily at the ceiling.

He had replied quickly.

_Misa-chan,_

_I won’t help you with the accommodation. You’re staying with me for your entire stay in England. All I ask is that you bring your old work uniform..._

_Get your cute ass over here soon, okay?~_

_Usui x_

Then she’d replied again.

_Usui,_

_Perfect, you pervert._

_PS: It was going to be in my suitcase anyways._

_Misaki_

He’d quickly thrown himself into preparations, cleaning the apartment and stocking up on food, both Japanese and English.

He had, however, neglected to fix the guest room. His bed was more than big enough.

 

In the midst of the roaring monster of Heathrow, Misaki feels small and strangely excited. She had managed to sleep for almost the entire 12 hour flight. No wonder; her mother had kept her busy, packing and re-packing her various bags, organising neighbourhood farewell parties and generally sobbing about her baby leaving.

Suzuna had given her a dictionary. Occasionally, she worried her.

Her friends in Tokyo had also decided to keep her far too busy making sure she had good memories to send her off, organising club crawls and indie concerts that were more booze than music. Misaki had drunk more alcohol in the past week than she had in her entire life. Maid Latte had also thrown a mini-party for her of reminiscing, laughing at Erika’s tales of motherhood and avoiding Satsuki’s knowing looks.

But now that was all over and Misaki was in England. Soon, the Japanese voices that had surrounded her for the duration of the trip began to fade into English. Misaki tried to stop panicking, instead trying to understand the voices around her.

“Finally, I missed ye..!”

“No, Mum, its okay, all I want now is some proper tea!”

“Daddy, look, can I get that teddy? It’s only three pound...”

“So are we going straight to Jim’s, or are we getting the tube to Liverpool Street and meeting him there?”

She smiled to herself. This was better, and her heart had had finally stabilised, but then, she looked up.

The webcam didn’t do him justice. Somehow, Usui had managed to grow more handsome, his green eyes brighter and smile wider. He looked more like a model than ever, dressed in nothing more than a white shirt, rumpled jeans and well worn tan shoes.

He raised one hand, mouth curling into a smirk.

Misaki began to walk towards him, but remembered her abandoned luggage. She sighed and darted back to get it, chastising herself. She saw him for the first time in so long and her brain turned into goo. Inexcusable, but... she couldn’t blame herself too much. She really had missed him. Sure, emailing and texting were brilliant, but what she really wanted was to punch him in real life.

She didn’t know what else she wanted.

Finally, she managed to haul everything up to him, ignoring the people watching them.

Looking up at him, she tried to think of something witty to say, like _‘Hey, these are heavy! Take some, idiot!’_ or _‘You look like an idiot smiling like that.’_

“Hi,” she squeaked, breathlessly.

“Hey,” he answered, taking a bag dangling from her arm and transferring it to his. “How was the flight?”

“I mostly slept.” She answered, looking up at the flickering signs, orange text scrolling too fast for her untrained eyes to read. “Were you waiting long?”

“No, just a few minutes.” He shifts the bag on his arm as he deftly takes another from her grasp. “Shall we go?”

He promptly walks away, leaving Misaki to stumble in his wake.

It doesn’t take them long to reach the station and descend the steep escalator. The platform is packed with people, their voices echoing in the underground cavern.

“So...” Misaki begins, unsure of what to say.

“Yes?” He inclines his head towards her gently, face blank.

“How long will it take us to get to your place?”

“Hmm... nothing more than half an hour. But if you want the journey to go quickly...” Suddenly, he is well within her personal space, chin brushing against her neck. “I can help you.”

Misaki shocks forward, easily registering the implications of his words, realising too late that if she doesn’t stop now she will step straight off the edge of the platform. Quickly, Usui’s arm shoots out and curls around her waist. “Mind the gap,” He whispers into her hair, and his statement is repeated seconds later by a tinny voice as a train speeds into the tunnel with a screech and gush of wind.

Misaki breathes heavily, people brushing past her to flood the train. Usui prods the small of her back and she steps robotically onboard, legs guiding her to a seat. Usui flops gracefully into the seat opposite her, having stowed her bags in a matter of moments.

She presses her face to the window to let it cool down before she speaks again. “You haven’t changed a bit,” she says, trying not to let her face show how flustered she feels.

“You have,” Usui says coolly, letting his eyes graze her body. She doesn’t reprimand him, knowing that his statement is true, instead stretching a little. She isn’t a little girl anymore, wearing shapeless clothes. Misaki knows the power of thin tops and tight jeans. She smiles inwardly as Usui’s eyes refocus on her chest as the fabric of her top is strained by her stretching limbs.

This is not the only way she’s changed. Misaki knows how to play the game Usui has tortured her with for years. He’s still better than her, but she enjoys this, the strange feeling of power over him.

“So you’re a D now? “ Usui says, still taking her in.

She kicks his leg. She hasn’t changed that much.

 

When Usui unlocks the apartment door, it is well and truly night.

“You’re so high up...” Misaki mumbles, peering round his shoulder into the dark room.

“I like heights.” Usui says simply, and pushes the door open wider so she can struggle through. He would have swept her up in a bridal lift and carried her across the threshold but for the myriad bags weighing them down.

He flicks on the lights and watches Misaki’s jaw drop. “Welcome to my humble abode.”

Well, humble isn’t what he’d describe his London home as. The main room is floored with dark hardwood, and the walls are painted dove gray, with strips of pale gold wallpaper breaking it up irregularly. A soft leather couch dominates the room, and a wall of windows displays a glittering nocturnal panorama of London.

The room isn’t cluttered, but it is nowhere near as sparse as his old apartment back in Japan. The low coffee table is marked with rings (he has a habit of slopping his tea and coffee out of the cup, leading to the blemishes on the otherwise perfect wood), thick rugs are scattered on the floor, and pictures and paintings parade on the walls. A huge bookcase is crammed with books and magazines and trinkets, and a chess table with the pieces spelling out a rude word is shoved ion the corner. A flatscreen TV is sunken into the wall, DVDs and game consoles spilling from the shelves.

Misaki walks towards the windows tentatively, finger tracing the outline of Big Ben as it chimes. A smile spreads across her face as the bells ring in harmony.

“Nostalgic, huh?” He walks forward to stand beside her. She nods, and turns her face to smile at him.

They stay like that in silence for a moment indulging in high school memories, both in and out of Seika.

Usui breaks the silence. “You hungry?”

“If you’re cooking...”

“It’ll just be some leftovers. Spaghetti bolognese okay?”

“At this point, I’d eat anything.” Her stomach rumbles in agreement. Usui snickers and ruffles her hair.

“I’ll go get it. Make yourself at home. The bathroom’s down that way, and just past it is the bedroom.” Usui turns around and makes his way into the kitchen, yanks the door of the fridge open and sticks his face in there. He stays still until he hears the door of the bathroom close softly, and only then does he withdraw his head and sigh.

He’d known to expect some change, but...not this much. She was taller now and curvier as well, he thinks, as he recalls the image of her back arching, breasts straining against the thin fabric of her top, its lifting hem revealing a strip of tanned stomach. Dangerous thoughts, but ones he welcomes; is he not a pervert?

But she’d enjoyed his reaction. She had smirked as he’d stared at her. In a way, she had defeated him for the first time.

This thought puts him on edge, but excites him too. He likes Misaki as he remembers her, with her blushing cheeks and nervous stammering and compete innocence and naiveté...but he likes this one too, the new Misaki, with waist length hair and a slight smile that knows how to push him. The old one was still there, though. He hoped she’d remain; he had to win sometimes.

He shakes his head and gets to work, pulling plates out of a cupboard and setting the food to reheat in the microwave.

 

Misaki marvels at the bathroom as she washes her hands.

The floor is entirely black marble, a sunken bath in the corner-no, not a bath, a Jacuzzi. A shower stands nearby, buttons running down the side denoting various settings. In front of Misaki is a large, spotless mirror, reflecting her frazzled face back at her. The room is lit dimly with golden light.

She knew Usui liked his human comforts, but...this bathroom was an interior designer’s wet dream. Hell, the entire apartment was, as far as she could see!

She didn’t want to leave the palatial room, but she had to eventually.

Next, she peeks into the kitchen. This room was amazing too; sleek appliances that must have cost at least a kidney, counters made of gleaming granite, Swiss knives lying carelessly next to the stove. Usui was buried in a cupboard from the waist up, humming as he pawed around looking for something. Misaki restrained a giggle and tore her gaze away from his behind (which was very much on display) and decided to go look at the bedroom.

She pauses before the door, not sure what to think. This is Usui’s bedroom, and in there, there could be anything. She imagines four poster beds draped with rugs, or maybe a circular rotating bed, or even...

She tries to push the unbidden image of Usui happily wearing a gag and far too much leather from her mind and pushes the door open.

The room is carpeted in gray pile, walls a slate blue. A desk piled with books and a humming laptop is to her immediate left. To her right, a violin case leans against an averagely sized wardrobe. Right in front of her is the main feature, a king sized bed with cream sheets and dark pillows. It isn’t as ostentatious as she would expect, but... the bed is inviting, and Misaki is tired. She’ll knows that she’ll probably regret it, but in a fluid movement she leaps onto the bed.

The first thing is its smell; it smells of Usui, of cologne and chocolate and sweat. It warms her immediately. The bed is insanely comfortable, and she cuddles down and lets out a little mewl of pleasure.

She dozes slightly, but is roused by somebody calling her name.

“Misaki? The food’s up.”

“Coming!” she says loudly, and leaps out of Usui’s bed just as the man himself pushes the door ajar. She smoothes her clothes down inconspicuously, but doesn’t miss the Usui’s eyes flickering from the bed to her mussed hair, and his mouth curling into a half-smirk.

As she walks out the door, he blocks her way out, leans down to her ear and says “If you want to test it out later... I am completely fine with that.” He straightens out and gives her a full-blown smirk. “I’d like to eat first, though.”

Misaki leans into him. “If I were you, “she breathes, “I’d have made up the couch already.” She pulls back and smiles brightly.

“Not a chance,” he huffs, as he ushers her up the hall with his hand on her back.

 

Usui saunters back in from the kitchen to find Misaki reclining on the couch, absentmindedly swirling her glass of wine.

“Good?” he asks, regarding her with a blank face.

“Delectable. Tell me, do you put LSD in it or something?” Her eyes are brighter now, satiated by the food.

“The secret ingredient...is love!” He winks and she huffs a little.

“But seriously, leftovers shouldn’t taste that good.”

He sits down beside her and relaxes into the leather. Today shouldn’t have been taxing; all he’d done earlier on was go over some reports for his father, but being around Misaki was draining. He forgotten how much so, how much self-control she made him exercise, how he was compelled to carry for her what he could. What was new was the mental sparring. Usually, it took no effort to make her do exactly what he wanted, to make her shiver or stiffen, make her blush or box him. Now, Misaki was fighting back.

“You look tired.” Misaki places the glass on the table and turns to him, eyes searching.

“Yeah,” he says, rubbing his eyes after he pulls off his glasses. “I am. To the bone.”

She looks at him for a while, her face struggling through barely visible emotions. “Damn it,” she sighs, and in a swift movement yanks his head down to thump into her lap. She leans over him and pulls his long legs onto the couch. Unconsciously, he kicks off his shoes.

Misaki smiles down at him and begins to pull her fingers through his hair. “I’ve never forgotten the times you did this for me and I remember how good it felt... Please let me return the favour.”

Usui is stunned beyond thought.

“I could get used to this,” he manages to say. He could, he really really could.

She smiles and tugs at the short, downy hair at the nape of his neck. “I could too.”


	2. you got me looking at you

Usui spend the first two days or so dragging Misaki around England’s capital city. The weather luckily obliges him, and it rains only occasionally.

They chase ravens at the Tower of London, they dash across roads with crowds of commuters, they pretend to be celebrities at Leicester Square (well, at least Usui does), they raid Covent Garden (Misaki takes advantage of Usui’s looks to bamboozle several young female shopkeepers into selling them things for peanuts), they get delayed for what seems an age by the grand sight of the Tower Bridge opening, they march past Buckingham Palace several times as Usui brags about actually having been in the beautiful building’s inner sanctum, they pose beside Peter Pan in Kensington Gardens, they get thoroughly lost in Harrods and just in general act like tourists from hell.

Many people take notice of the exotic girl and the handsome blond boy dancing around her, and Usui notices each and every look. He quite likes seeing the assumptions in their eyes, and as such makes every effort to touch Misaki, to yank her back from roads, to spin her around and show her yet another grand building, to drag her into jewellery store and bedeck her with expensive chains. Misaki had not rebuffed any of his advances, mainly because she was completely distracted by something else. It was enjoyable, though, to show her around and watch her marvel at things now mundane to him.

On the third night of her stay, Misaki is wrecked, and completely resists Usui’s attempts to drag her out.

“No,” she says resolutely. “I am way too tired to do anything except lie here.”

Usui pouts. “Is my couch that comfortable?”

“You’d know better, you’re the one that’s been sleeping on it!” Misaki shakes her head. On the second night, Misaki had insisted on sleeping on the couch. Usui had taken matters into his own hands by sneaking into the sitting room while she slept, picking her up and dumping her into his bed; surprisingly, she hadn’t waken once during the entire ordeal.

The night before, Usui had dozed off with his head in her lap and Misaki hadn’t had the heart to move him. They had woken up fully clothed, Usui’s glasses slightly bent and Misaki’s back aching. It had been somewhat embarrassing, but both had composed themselves with remarkably more speed than they would have previously.

“Besides, we haven’t really had the chance to talk...not even in the restaurants.” Misaki rolls her eyes. “You attract rich people like some weird magnet.”

He frowns at her. “Charisma, honey.” Almost as an afterthought, he adds, “Money,too. But why we would we waste time talking when the food is that nice?”

Misaki sniffs. “True.” She slumps back a little. “That roast duck...” She lets out a happy noise. “Thinking about it makes me hungry!”

“You just ate.”

She shoots him a glare. Usui decides to make a tactical retreat to the kitchen. As he enters, the kettle shrills at him. It is a decidedly British habit, having the kettle on constantly, but the one thing he disliked about Japan was tea. Sure, he’d drink the stuff, but it couldn’t compare to milk tea.

As he performs the familiar process of making two mugs of tea, Usui admits to himself that they do need to talk. Certain things needed to be clarified, and boundaries needed to be redrawn. Even if they both wished for the relationship they had had previously, it would take time.

Usui is determined, though, to re-establish it, come hell or high water.

 

Misaki squirms into the couch, highly aware of Usui’s smell emanating from the leather, and groans. She really doesn’t want to get up. The whole tourist thing was enjoyable, but exhausting too, and jetlag on top of that just exacerbated the matter.

While she’s contemplating not moving from the couch for the remainder of her free week, Usui coughs at her.

She looks at him blearily, and tiredly accepts the cup offered to her. She rights herself into sitting position as Usui makes himself comfortable beside her.

She looks at him as he lowers his mug onto to coffee table. “Usui...”

“Yeah?” He gazes at her curiously, and Misaki steels her nerves. If he so decides, he could stall all day and never get to the topic.

“How are the Walkers now? Especially with me?”

Usui’s gaze drops. His face remains a perfect mask, but it takes him a while to get the words out. When he she can hear the hidden tension behind the lilting tones of his voice.

“Grandfather’s influence has...decreased, so for now, I am accepted.” She knows that the old man isn’t well, having had a stroke shortly after the events of her impromptu visit to England, and is now living in a hospital.

“Gerard is improving. The doctors drugged him up with something, and he’s changed. Physically, his body is now okay, but mentally, he isn’t in a good place. However, he can manage the business, so my services are not required for now.” Usui’s voice is unfeeling and his green eyes are hard. Misaki knows that there is no love lost between the brothers, but from the sounds of things, their relationship has only worsened with time. She can’t imagine having such a bad relationship with Suzuna, but...

In Usui’s case, it is different. In Usui’s case, almost everything is. Gerard is as friendly and unlikeable as Suzuna is apathetic and lovable.

“My step-father is taking care of things, but...” Usui rests his face on his knees. “I think he’s trying to accept me. He’s the one giving me work, training me. He can be strangely competent when he wants.” His voice has softened considerably, and Misaki smiles. She remembers the man, absentmindedly tearing the petals off of a flower as his father’s voice rumbled across the estate. “I appreciate the effort, even if he is only doing it for her.” The softness has vanished.

“And you?” she says softly.

Usui’s eyes focus on a point behind her. “I want to work with my family,” he states, “if only for the sake of my mother. I will protect our business in the event of Gerard being unable to do so, but I hope that will not occur in the near future. As for you...”

Misaki’s chest tightens to the point of pain.

“I have convinced my family that they are not to be concerned with you. To them, you are secondary.” His eyes are strange, dark and bright simultaneously. “Our relationship no longer interests them.”

The tightness in her chest abates, and she lets out a relieved sigh. “Good... I was worried that we’d be stalked by that old ninja man again!” One obstacle has been removed, at least.

Usui just smiles inscrutably.

They spend the next five minutes sipping their tea in peace. Misaki hates to admit it, but she can see why Usui loves the stuff so much. In Britain with its cold climate and rain, hot drinks are lifesavers, especially when paired with chocolate digestives.

Usui shatters the silence. “How’s Igarashi?”

Misaki stiffens. Usui utters Igarashi’s name with feral disdain.

“I don’t know, not anymore. I didhear that he broke off that engagement of his recently.”

Usui’s face is a mask, but his clenched fist betrays him. Misaki can’t bring herself to tell him the truth.

_It’s dark, and Misaki is very drunk. The nightclub pulses with music and the DJ hollers happily at the swaying crowd._

_“Come on,” Igarashi mutters into her ear. “I know you’re lonely... He’s in England, and this time you’re not going to chase him.”_

_Misaki hiccups. “You’re...takin’ advantage of me...”_

_“Yes, I am.” She stares up at him and considers her options._

_She doesn’t want to piss him off. In a weird way, Igarashi is her friend, and it’s true; she is lonely._

_He’d said she didn’t need to be faithful. Hell, they weren’t even dating anymore! Friends, that’s all they were, even though he said they’d always be more. She still wanted to be more_

_Fuck it. She’s drunk, she’s lonely, and she doesn’t want to disappoint Igarashi._

_She reaches up and grasps the back of his neck, yanks his down to her height and crashes her lips onto his. He lets out a muffled sound of surprise but quickly reciprocates._

_Misaki pulls away from him and looks at him again. She isn’t sure, but she thinks she sees a faint blush on his face, golden eyes shadowed with something that looks like hunger._

_“Go ahead, then,” she says. “Take advantage of me.”_

_When he kisses her again she pulls his fingers through his bleached blond hair and pretends it’s someone else’s._

She didn’t let it go any further.

Usui’s lips twist into a strange grimace. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be asking you stuff like this. We promised that we wouldn’t be tied down. I confess, I took advantage of that rule.”

Misaki’s face hardens and she feels anger rising within her. “What did you do?”

“What any other drunk young man would do when a model lands in his lap.” He meets her eyes, as if challenging her.

Misaki doesn’t know whether to laugh or yell, so instead she moves towards him. “In your lap, huh?” she mutters, slowly advancing towards him.

Usui looks exactly like a deer caught in headlights as she settles herself comfortably between his legs. “What would any other man do...?” he says slowly.

Misaki grins, feeling her entire face heat up at the implications of what she is about to do. “Go ahead,” she whispers. “You don’t need any models... I won’t let you need any.”

Quickly, she presses his lips to his. She means it to be short and sweet, to last for a second, for her to dart back and smirk at him, except somehow she forgets her plan and everything else outside of Usui’s hands digging into her waist and the other points where they touch. Unconsciously, she presses herself against him and is rewarded with a strangled noise as his grip around her waist tightens.

She breaks away from him when her lungs are about to burst. “Our tea will get cold,” she says breathlessly.

Usui chuckles and hugs her harder, eliciting a gasp. “You’re cold, Misa-chan...” He peeks at her with dark eyes. “Or rather, cold-hearted.”

“Not yet,” she manages to say, licking her swollen lips. “I didn’t mean to...”

His fingers rub tentative tiny circles into her back. “You did what you said you’d do though... I won’t require any models in the foreseeable future.” His voice hardens. “You won’t need him.”

She presses her forehead to his. “He doesn’t even compare.”

When they’ve both regained their breath, Usui carefully pushes her off his lap and stands up. “I’ll let you rest,” he says, pushing his hair back from his face. “Do you mind if I use the bathroom first?” She nods numbly and he smiles crookedly before departing.

Misaki hauls herself up off the couch and without even being remotely aware of her surroundings manages to get to the bedroom and collapse into the bed, feeling the fragrant fabric curl around her frame. She presses her fingers to her lips and closes her eyes.

“Idiot Usui...” she mumbles.

 

In his dark living room, Usui tries without success to get to sleep.

They had been fine. She had accepted his explanation of his family without protest. He had imagined that she would press the matter of Gerard harder, but with time has come tact. He had understated his half-brother’s condition;Gerard is worse than broken, flipping between manic and sullen like a broken see-saw.

But of course, he had to go ruin it by bringing up Igarashi fucking Tora.

_“I met up with Ayuzawa recently, you know.”_

_Usui can’t help but look at the Machiavellian man, chin cradled in hand. His smirk grows wider as Usui regards him suspiciously._

_“Of course, she’s no longer a concern of yours, Walker... Long distance relationships too difficult?” Igarashi waves his glass vaguely._

_“Ayuzawa will always be a concern of mine for as long as I live.” Usui says quietly, keeping his voice even with no small effort._

_“She seemed very lonely.” Igarashi’s unnaturally gold eyes are piercing. “I would take better care of her before someone else does.”_

_“Did you come to England to negotiate business or did you come for the express purpose for getting your nose broken?” Usui says brusquely. He feels a sick sense of satisfaction as Igarashi’s smirk slides off his face to be replaced by an ugly sneer._

_“Be careful, Walker. I usually get what I want.”_

_“Igarashi, I always get what I want.”_

Usui covers his eyes with his hand. It had gotten better, or even worse, depending on your viewpoint. He’d brought up the models out of pettishness (in all honesty, all they’d gotten was a kiss before he realised that they weren’t Misaki), but her reaction...

In high school, if that had happened, he would have needed a long cold shower. As it is now, it was close. Too close.

Too soon.

He wants to get her to call him Takumi again first.

For now, he needs to sleep.


End file.
